I earned a Bachelor’s degree in Communication–Media Production from the University of Houston, followed by a Master’s degree in Mass Communication from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where I graduated with honors and maintained a 3.8 GPA. I studied media systems, psychology, marketing, and storytelling—fields rooted in influence, perception, and power.
For generations before me, access to formal education was not merely discouraged for people like me; it was criminalized. During slavery, laws across Southern states made it illegal to teach enslaved people to read or write. Literacy was considered dangerous because it enabled self-determination. After emancipation, Black Codes and later Jim Crow laws ensured that education remained segregated and unequal.
The University of Houston, where I earned my undergraduate degree, did not admit Black students until 1960, following years of segregation upheld by state policy and reinforced by Plessy v. Ferguson (1896). Had I been born a generation earlier, my presence on that campus would have been prohibited by law—not by merit.
At the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where I completed my graduate studies and served as a Research Assistant and Teacher, the institution itself did not integrate until the mid-1950s, following Brown v. Board of Education (1954). That ruling declared segregated schools unconstitutional, but implementation was slow and fiercely resisted across the South. When I stood in classrooms leading lectures, grading assignments, and creating exams for Introduction to Principles of Human Communication, I was occupying a role my ancestors were explicitly barred from holding.
I have spent years working in media production and communications, handling tools that shape narratives in real time. At WBRZ ABC Channel 2, I operated graphics for morning and afternoon news. At KRIV FOX 26 / UPN 20, I worked in newsroom environments historically closed to Black professionals except in narrowly defined roles. Broadcast journalism, like most professional industries, remained largely segregated well into the 20th century through discriminatory hiring practices—even after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 made such discrimination illegal on paper.
I’ve produced, edited, and cable-cast programming for Acadiana Open Channel, created in-house promos, and edited informational videos for state websites. Control over media—who tells stories, who edits them, who frames public understanding—has always been tied to power. Black voices were long excluded from mainstream media or relegated to stereotypes, often reinforced by law through licensing restrictions and ownership barriers.
I have also worked within institutions like the City of Houston Police Department, maintaining community outreach databases and implementing program requests. This matters deeply. Modern policing in the United States evolved in part from slave patrols—state-sanctioned forces designed to control Black movement. Even after slavery, vagrancy laws and convict leasing systems allowed Black Americans to be arrested for minor infractions and forced into labor. To work inside a law enforcement institution today—particularly in a community-facing role—is to stand inside a system that once legally criminalized Black existence.
Alongside professional work, I have consistently served in education, mentorship, and community engagement. I tutored and mentored K–12 students through I Have a Dream (IHAD) and The B.R.I.D.G.E. Ministry of Acadiana, supporting academic and personal growth for students navigating systems that still reflect historical inequities. I recruited nearly 200 volunteers to support community awareness and fundraising initiatives. There was a time when Black Americans gathering for education or mutual aid were viewed as threats to public order and were actively surveilled or shut down.
That same historical reality follows me into fitness and wellness.
As a Certified Personal Trainer and Group Fitness Instructor, teaching at YMCA, Crunch, Clean Camp, Achievement Fitness Center, Studio NiąMoves, and through The Fellowship of Fitness, I guide people toward strength, mobility, breath, and agency over their own bodies.
The YMCA, where I currently teach, operated segregated facilities for decades, with many branches explicitly whites-only well into the mid-20th century. In many cities, Black Americans were either excluded entirely or forced into separate, inferior branches. Public recreation spaces—pools, gyms, and wellness facilities—were among the most violently defended segregated spaces in the Jim Crow era.
That history matters when I stand in those rooms today.
From enslaved labor to convict leasing to forced sterilization programs that disproportionately targeted Black women in the 20th century, bodily autonomy has never been guaranteed. Even now, whose bodies are protected—and whose are policed—remains uneven.
In my classes—whether POUND, STRONG Nation, Aerial Yoga, CIRCL Mobility, or Joint Ventures—I emphasize safety, choice, modification, and empowerment. I do not take lightly the fact that I am teaching people how to inhabit their bodies with confidence in a country where bodily autonomy has always been conditional and remains politically contested.
As a Brand Ambassador for POUND Fitness, Clean Juice, and STRONG Nation, and as a SYNC Community Champion, I represent brands publicly, communicate values, and build trust with diverse audiences. Historically, Black women were excluded from brand representation entirely, or relegated to exploitative roles. Retail spaces—from department stores like Sears & Roebuck, where I once worked, to grocery chains—were often segregated by policy or practice, even when no sign explicitly said so.
Even churches and theaters—spaces where I volunteered as a videographer, teacher, actress, and sound/light technician—were not exempt. Sunday morning has long been called the most segregated hour in America, not by accident but by tradition, enforcement, and silence.
But being my ancestors’ wildest dreams does not mean the dream is secure.
Reconstruction gave way to Jim Crow. Voting rights expanded—and were later weakened. Educational access opened—and was undermined through funding, zoning, and policy. Civil rights were codified—and then challenged through courts, legislation, and culture.
History shows us that rights are not permanent. They are conditional, interpreted, enforced—or ignored—depending on who is paying attention.
That is why I do this work with intention. Why I stay educated. Why I mentor. Why I teach. Why I remember.
I am not exceptional. I am evidence.
Evidence of what happens when barriers are challenged. Evidence of what becomes possible when access is protected. Evidence of why history must be taught honestly—not softened for comfort.
I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.
And I know that dreams survive not on gratitude alone, but on vigilance—because freedom, once won, is never guaranteed to stay.
